


too good to be true

by jouska



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, Clothed Sex, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mutual Pining, Overstimulation, Rutting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-10-01 16:58:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20343550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jouska/pseuds/jouska
Summary: Kiritsugu realizes just how lonely he is during the day. With Shirou and Taiga off at school, he’s all alone in his enormous mansion, left only with a few chores and mindless daytime television to fill the void. It was monotony that was comfortable, but unfulfilling. Maybe that’s why he reached out the way he did on that summer night.





	too good to be true

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lufiia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lufiia/gifts).

> another commission for larsa! au where fate/zero happens but kariya's alive and zouken's fucking dead and kiritsugu gets to be happy don't FUCKING @ ME, UROBUCHI

Kiritsugu isn’t one to make friends—at least, not these days. And it’s mostly on him for a lack of trying; he has Shirou, he has Taiga, and as far as he’s concerned that’s all he needs. He’s never been one to go out and socialize, either, given his previous profession as an assassin. He never knew who would be next on his list—it was easier in those days to cut himself off, reasoning _you’ll have to kill them someday, indirectly even._ It was easy to reason that he didn’t need anyone but Maiya, Irisviel, and Illyasviel.

Nowadays, though, he doesn’t have that easy excuse. He isn’t in the business of killing anymore—like a domesticated wild beast, he can’t reason with himself that he’s destined to kill everyone around him eventually, so it’s better to just _not_ have anyone, because it just isn’t _true._ He’s had his claws clipped, so to speak. If he wants to keep the life he has now with his son, he can’t jeopardize it with his old habits.

With that in mind, Kiritsugu realizes just how lonely he is during the day. With Shirou and Taiga off at school, he’s all alone in his enormous mansion, left only with a few chores and mindless daytime television to fill the void. It was monotony that was comfortable, but unfulfilling. The noise from the TV would blend and melt out of his ears, creating white noise that might as well just be silence. His eyes go hazy, and he loses track of time, just waiting and waiting and _waiting_ for Shirou and Taiga to come home so his life could start again.

Maybe that’s why he reached out the way he did on that summer night.

He’d taken Shirou and Taiga to a fireworks festival, having reserved their usual spot hours in advance. It was far enough away from other people, but unobstructed by trees or buildings. It was practically in their backyard, too, meaning the walk home was quiet and short. There was something different that time, though—and Kiritsugu still wonders if it was just dumb luck or fate that brought it about.

A man aided by a brace on his left arm and his niece had arrived a bit too late to find a good spot for viewing the fireworks. They ended up parked under the overhanging branches of the zelkova trees, making it near impossible for them to see anything.

Kiritsugu had intended on ignoring them, he really had. But the way Shirou and Taiga pointed them out sparked something in him, a spontaneous recklessness that he’d hardly ever known.

“Why don’t,” he had croaked, “You see if they want to share our spot?”

He was lucky that Taiga was so sociable and eager to reach out to others, because she had done most of the hard work for him; she took Shirou with her, chatted the other family up and convinced them to come over to share their mat for the fireworks, and further persuaded the man to let her and Shirou take his niece—named Sakura, he’d learned—to play games up by the vendors lined on the streets.

The first few moments he spent alone with the man were quiet. With him up close, Kiritsugu noticed how striking he was; pale skin with lesions marking the left side of his face, partially concealed by a white patch stretched over his eye, with stark white hair framing his features. His entire left half seemed half-dead, if the braces he wore were any tell. He was having trouble sitting down on the mat without falling, and Kiritsugu, without a second thought, reached out to help him.

“Sorry,” he had murmured, feeling his cheeks flush with embarrassment. “I spaced out for a second there.”

The man laughed, gentle and kind. “Don’t worry about it, you’re fine. I’m kind of a sight.”

“No, I…” Kiritsugu shook his head, letting the man bear his weight on him as he brought him down, splaying the man’s legs out in front of him. Kiritsugu sat down at the man’s right then, legs falling open in a loose crisscross position. “It’s not that I was…”

“It’s okay if you were, you know?” the man stopped him, lifting his right hand to wave off his concerns. “I’m used to it. I don’t get out that often these days, but when I do, there’s always stares. I have to say though, this is the first time anyone actually approached us with kind intentions. It’s a nice change of pace.”

Kiritsugu had tipped his head down, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t get out much with my kids, either—I don’t get to talk much with other parents, with my health being the way it is.”

He wasn’t referring to his physical health, but to say it in such terms felt wrong. Even so, the man seemed to understand what he meant, nodding emphatically. “I know what you mean! Sakura doesn’t make many friends to begin with, and even then, her friends’ parents aren’t always excited to meet me… it’s always questions about _can you really care for her,_ or _I know this really great skin specialist,_ like I can’t be a good uncle if I look like hell? I swear, some parents are so… you know?”

Kiritsugu had laughed, really laughed, and the man laughed with him. The conversation flowed naturally after that, as if they were old friends catching up after not seeing one another in a long time. Even when the kids came back, even when the fireworks started, they were still talking—about Shirou, about Sakura, about life stuck alone at home in front of a TV, whatever came to mind. It wasn’t until the fireworks were halfway done that Kiritsugu realized something.

“Oh god,” he had said, feeling his ears warm. “I completely forgot to ask for your name. I’m Emiya Kiritsugu.”

The man found this funny, his shoulder shaking and slightly brushing against Kiritsugu’s. “It’s okay, I forgot, too! I’m Matou Kariya—do you mind if I call you Kiritsugu?”

Something about the way he said his name then made Kiritsugu’s heart stutter. Without thinking, he replied, “Can I call you Kariya?”

Kariya smiled. Kiritsugu felt himself smiling back. “Sure thing.”

* * *

They stayed in contact long after that—now that they were acquainted, Kiritsugu found that he didn’t have to waste the day away on his own anymore. He could call Kariya, put him on speaker while he watched TV or did chores. They didn’t always talk extensively, but even with long lulls in their conversations, Kiritsugu felt… at ease. Calm.

It got to the point where Kiritsugu just wanted him there, in the same house with him, in the same _room_ as him. He thought back to when their shoulders brushed at the fireworks festival, and the memory left him oddly wanting. It was scary, but not in a way that made dread creep up his spine; it was the intimate kind of scary. Was he really ready to…? He wasn’t even sure what he wanted out of Kariya being there physically, not really, but he knew he wanted it.

He just asked him one day, after weeks of agonizing. He was sprawled out on the tatami, the TV humming softly in the background, when he said, “Hey, you want to come over to my place one of these days? While the kids are at school.”

There was a shaky breath on the other end of the line, like Kariya had been waiting for him to ask that. Was he reading too much into it? _Shit, what if that’s too weird, what if he says no? What if—_ “I can come over right now, if you want?” Kariya’s voice broke through his panicked thoughts. “I’m… I’m kind of bored out of my skull over here, haha.”

Kiritsugu’s pulse was hammering hard in his ears. “Yeah—yeah, me too. I can make tea? Here, my address is…”

He now finds himself struggling to make a good enough batch of tea before Kariya gets here, surprised at just how reliant he’s been getting on Shirou if he can’t even make a simple fucking pot of _tea_ on his own. He’s on his third attempt when the doorbell rings, and _fuck it, isn’t there something in the fridge? Lemonade? We’ve got lemonade, right?_ And thank god, they do—Shirou must have made a fresh pitcher this morning before leaving for school. He quickly pulls out two clean cups, not stopping to realize that they’re both mismatched teacups, pours the lemonade, leaves the cups on a tray, and half-jogs to the front door.

_Why am I nervous? What’s different?_ Kiritsugu tries puzzling through it as he slides the door open, feeling his chest clench at the sight of Kariya standing there, hand hovering over the doorbell. He was dressed in a yukata much like his own, but it’s a faded shade of violet, cool contrasting to Kiritsugu’s own warm burgundy. Kariya has his left arm resting inside the front instead of in the sleeve, the tented space leaving his yukata slightly open around his chest. The left side is marred, lesions branching out and in.

It’s casual in a way that Kiritsugu isn’t used to seeing on others. Kariya’s completely bare, no chest hair or stubble. He wonders if it’s due to his condition, or if he waxes regularly, or—

“Sorry,” Kiritsugu feels compelled to say, especially when he realizes he’s been staring. He almost lulls back into that once he catches sight of Kariya’s collarbone, shaking his head to free himself of those thoughts. _Don’t be weird._ “No, wait, I mean—welcome, come on in.”

Kariya laughs a little, but it doesn’t feel like it’s at his expense. His shoulder shakes, opening his yukata even more—_stop that, Kiritsugu, eyes up._ “Thanks for having me. You sound out of breath, I hope I didn’t come too early?”

“Oh, no… okay, maybe a little,” Kiritsugu leads Kariya in, sliding the door shut as Kariya toes off his shoes. Kiritsugu holds a hand out to help Kariya up the step, shrugging with a sigh. “Turns out I suck at making tea. I hope lemonade’s okay.”

Kariya smiles, taking hold of Kiritsugu’s hand and lifting his bum leg up and onto the step. Kiritsugu forces himself to keep his eyes on Kariya’s, even though his chest is still mildly distracting. “That’s fine! I’m more of a lemonade guy, lucky for you. I’m flattered you’d try to make tea, though… I’m sorry if it was a lot of trouble.”

Shaking his head, Kiritsugu leads him down the hall. “It’s fine, really—if anything, I need to sit myself down and learn how to actually make tea on my own…” he stops outside the sitting room; sitting out on the veranda facing the courtyard would be nice, actually, better than just sitting inside. “You mind sitting outside? It’s not too hot today, so…”

Kariya’s hand squeezes his hand—_wait, shit, I forgot to let go of his hand? Shit, should I let go? He squeezed it, does that mean he wants me to keep holding it or—_and nods, his gaze sliding away from him. “That sounds perfect.”

Kiritsugu swallows around the lump in his throat and lets go of Kariya’s hand. He isn’t sure if he’s imagining it, but he thinks Kariya’s touch lingers a little. _Don’t be weird, just get the lemonade and go,_ Kiritsugu admonishes himself and grabs the tray with their drinks off the table, heading back into the hallway to lead Kariya to the courtyard.

“Here we are,” Kiritsugu sets the tray down on the veranda between them, sliding open the glass door. The breeze rustles his hair, the coolness against his skin easing his nerves a bit. He sits down, letting his legs dangle over the edge. Kariya is quick to follow, though he kneels instead, wincing slightly as he maneuvers his left leg under him. “Oh—sorry, I should’ve…”

“No, it’s okay! I whine, but it really isn’t that bad,” Kariya waves him off, settling in comfortably. Kiritsugu quickly grabs a cup for him—_realizing that these are two different fucking cups, god damn it, god damn it why—_and hands it to Kariya, trying not to flinch when Kariya’s fingers brush against his. “Thank you… but yeah, it’s really no big deal.”

“If you’re sure,” Kiritsugu says, reaching for his own cup and taking a sip. It does nothing for his dry throat, strangely. “I don’t want to be inconsiderate or anything.”

“You’re sweet,” Kariya smiles, bringing his own cup to his lips. He’s still looking at Kiritsugu over the rim, an unreadable look in his eyes. “It’s just a matter of being kind of slow, in all honesty. Can’t feel anything on my left half, but I can manage most of the time.”

Kiritsugu’s gaze wanders back down to Kariya’s chest for a moment. “Yeah, you’re not kidding—you said it was a family sickness at one point, right? I didn’t realize it was more than just your arm and your leg, but now that I get a look, it’s…”

“Pretty bad, right?” There’s a mild self-deprecating tone to Kariya’s voice, but that half-smile is still there. “Sorry if it’s kind of gross. This is the best way for me to wear this, but I can change—”

“No,” Kiritsugu says quickly. Maybe too quickly. Kariya looks surprised at his sudden insistence, making Kiritsugu’s voice strain a bit on the rest. “I… I don’t think you look gross. Not at all.”

For the first time, Kariya actually blushes around him. It’s as lopsided as the rest of him, the right side of his face flushing darker than the left. Heat flushes through Kiritsugu’s own body at the sight of it, near-suffocating warmth lighting him up from his head down to his feet. He can feel his own face turning red as he stares, and he feels utterly idiotic for it—_way to go, getting all hot and bothered over somebody blushing, what are you, a horny teenager?_

Kariya sets his drink down, swiping his hand through his bangs. He seems shy, not meeting Kiritsugu’s eyes for a few moments—but when he does look back to him, there’s an entirely different feel to his gaze. It’s warmer, fonder… almost flirty? “Been a while since I heard that from a handsome guy like you.”

_Definitely flirty. _The weight of Kariya’s words is devastating, another pulse of heat shooting through him—this time settling heavily between his legs. He breathes out a sudden sigh, unable to suppress the small, strained sound that trails out along with it. He tries crossing one leg over the other, hoping that Kariya doesn’t notice just how rattled he’s getting.

“Handsome, huh…” Kiritsugu clears his throat and sets his own cup down; he keeps his tone controlled, though he knows his face is probably giving away more than he’d like. “Didn’t know you were into flattery like that.”

He’s hyper-aware of the sound the tray makes against the floor as Kariya slides it back, opening a path for him right to Kiritsugu. _Right. He’s probably making room so he can better reach over and slap me for being weird. Of course, of course the first actual adult friend I have, I can’t keep myself from being…_

Just as Kiritsugu is getting lost in his own head, tumbling down the path of worst-case scenarios, Kariya moves over, settling in closer to him. It’s not _too_ close—it’s moderately respectable, they’re not touching, but with Kariya sitting this close to him, Kiritsugu can smell his aftershave and the faint scent of lemonade still clinging to his lips. Kariya’s eye is on him, his hand firmly in his own lap, but his fingers are twitching. Like he wants to reach over and… _slap me? Right, it’s probably that,_ Kiritsugu reasons with himself.

“Kiritsugu,” Kariya says. His voice is low, tone warmed by interest. He’s looking up at Kiritsugu from under his lashes, a sight that sends more heat pulsing between his legs. “Can I… say something kind of weird?”

_This is better than a slap, at least,_ Kiritsugu swallows the excess saliva pooling in his mouth. “No such thing as a weird question, but shoot.”

“Okay… all right, damn, this is kind of awkward, but,” Kariya’s face flushes again, and Kiritsugu has to remember how to breathe. “We’ve only really known each other for a month or so, but… I just wanted to thank you again for that night. Me and Sakura were going through a rough time, but now that she’s been spending time with Shirou and Taiga, her mood’s been improving. And… I don’t think that would’ve happened if you hadn’t invited us over to your spot.”

Kiritsugu doesn’t interrupt him—can’t, really, his throat is tight with nerves. This is the first time since Iri that someone his age has shared their thoughts with him like this, had a heart-to-heart with him like this, and… he’s terrified. He isn’t in that life anymore, but if he lets Kariya get close, if he lets their family get close to his and something happens to them, he—

“Hey,” Kariya’s hand is closing over Kiritsugu’s, jolting him back to earth. His eyes are soft, and looking into them is helping somewhat. “Are you okay? Did I say something wrong?”

“No, you’re…” Kiritsugu’s voice cracks slightly. He realizes, then, that he’s shaking. Partly from fear and partly because this is the first intense boner he’s had in a _long_ time and he’s hypersensitive. But Kariya doesn’t need to know that second part. “I’m… I’m really happy to hear that, and I feel the same way, I do. Shirou and Taiga can’t get enough of Sakura, and being able to talk with you every day has improved my mood so, so much, and… I just… I’m worried this is too good to be true. I haven’t had anyone like you since my wife passed away, and I’m… fuck, I’m rambling, I’m sorry—”

Kariya’s moved closer now, his hip brushing Kiritsugu’s. His hand has left his, but instead of pulling it away completely, Kariya rests his palm against Kiritsugu’s face. The touch is soft and warm against his cheek, his thumb catching lightly at Kiritsugu’s five o’clock shadow. His face is tipped up towards him, closing in slowly.

“It’s okay,” Kariya says, his breath fanning over Kiritsugu’s lips. “It’s okay, Kiritsugu.”

The sound of cicadas crying fills in the void of silence that comes when Kariya presses his lips against Kiritsugu’s. His entire body is buzzing, nerves lighting up at each point of contact he’s making with Kariya. He can’t close his eyes, even though Kariya’s closed his right one. Kiritsugu’s staring, shaking, feeling his eyes burn and _don’t you dare start fucking crying when you’re getting kissed, Kiritsugu._ But he is, because it’s been _so_ long, and he’s been so, so lonely, and Kariya’s so warm and nice and…

Kiritsugu grabs at Kariya’s waist, pulling him in close, desperate for more contact. Kariya makes a noise against him, his tongue sweeping against Kiritsugu’s lips, chuckling at the gasp he makes once Kariya’s licking further into his mouth. He finds himself tipping backwards, pulling Kariya on top of him as he splays out on his back on the veranda. The weight against him is breathtaking, and feeling the press of Kariya’s thigh against his cock makes him cough a moan into Kariya’s mouth.

“You weren’t kidding,” Kariya mutters with a half-smile on his face, parting from Kiritsugu for a moment. His lips are smeared with saliva, his eye hooded as he gives Kiritsugu a once-over. “You make it sound like no one’s touched you in years.”

“I really haven’t,” Kiritsugu pants, his chest heaving. “You’re… you’re the first in a long time.”

Kariya laughs like that’s the sweetest thing he’s ever heard, like Kiritsugu is the sweetest thing he’s tasted in years. “When was the last time you got your rocks off? Do you touch yourself at all?”

When Kiritsugu averts his gaze, Kariya gives another breathless laugh, nudging Kiritsugu’s legs apart with his right, sliding his thigh against his cock. The contact is electric, and Kiritsugu moans out loud, maybe a little too loud, but Kariya seems like he loves it. He’s nosing against Kiritsugu’s temple, kissing below his ear and grinding his leg into Kiritsugu.

“Do you think you could get me off?” Kariya speaks into Kiritsugu’s ear, his tone wet. Kiritsugu moans again, can’t really get enough oxygen in his brain to respond with anything else. “I don’t want to stop touching you for even a second.”

Nodding, Kiritsugu fumbles with Kariya’s obi, trying to get it open while Kariya continues rubbing at his aching cock through his clothes. He can feel his eyes rolling back, his mouth hanging open, saliva spilling down his chin as he gives up and just grabs at Kariya through his yukata, trying to find a good angle with his hand. The contact makes Kariya hum against his skin, his teeth nipping at Kiritsugu’s throat.

“You’re so sweet,” Kariya says, his breath hot against his neck as he all but humps into Kiritsugu’s hand, his leg stuttering against Kiritsugu’s cock. “You’re so cute, Kiritsugu.”

Tipping his head back, Kiritsugu cries out, bucking his hips up _hard_ against Kariya’s leg. “Please,” he slurs, each rapid pant falling from his lips framed around noise, he’s so _noisy,_ was he always this vocal? He can’t remember, doesn’t want to, can hardly think about anything but _Kariya, Kariya, Kariya._ “Please, Kariya, I’m gonna—”

“Mm, go ahead,” Kariya bites him harder, his own hips pressing hard into Kiritsugu’s hand. He moans low, his eye shut tight. “I’m right behind you, do it, let me hear you—_ahh—!_”

Wrapping his free arm tightly around Kariya, Kiritsugu just about screams when he cums, his yukata riding up his back as he jerks up. He sobs, shaking hard through his climax, _god it’s been way longer than I thought, shit, laundry’s gonna suck,_ his thoughts filter in, jumbled and sliding out of his ears just as quickly as they form. He can feel Kariya cumming soon after, his moans muffling against Kiritsugu’s neck as he arches his back.

“You’re beautiful,” Kiritsugu says without thinking. It sounds awkward and stilted and he wishes he hadn’t, but Kariya looks up at him and smiles. His hand slides back up to Kiritsugu’s face, thumb brushing against his lips.

“I’ll be a lot more beautiful after a shower, I think,” he says, his voice low. “Mind sharing one with me?”

**Author's Note:**

> check me out on tumblr @ diokyouran!


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